


The Champion's Path

by sinnerman



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnerman/pseuds/sinnerman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sketches from the Life of Khittamaer Hawke</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Past

"What are you doing with that?  Get away from it!"

Kit looked up in irritation.  "She's not an it, you idiot.  There's something wrong with her."  Kit gently stroked the mabari's head.  "I can't just leave her here."  He helped the dog to her feet.  "Come on, girl, let's go somewhere more comfortable."

Carver stared at his older brother.  "What are you thinking?  You can't be bringing that home!  They'll say you stole it!"

Kit laughed.  "You can't steal a mabari.  Help me," he ordered, and he and Carver supported the mabari as they walked back to their hut.  Kit led the dog into the back room, and the dog gratefully sank down on the pile of rushes and not-quite-perfect linens, her head resting on Kit's lap.  "I hope she's all right."

With a heavy sigh, the way that only a put-upon nine-year-old can do, Carver brought over a chipped bowl, filled with water for the mabari.  "You're going to be in so much trouble."

Kit grinned, and continued petting the dog, trying to soothe her.  "Do you think anyone is looking for her?"

The warhound huffed slightly, and settled her head more firmly in Kit's lap.

Bethany ran up to her brothers.  "There's a man looking around outside!"  She stared at the mabari that Kit was holding.  "What are you doing?  What's wrong with her, the poor dear?  She looks awful!"  Bethany petted the dog, and Carver walked outside to look at the stranger.

"Are you searching for a dog?" asked Carver politely.

"Eh?  Please tell me you've found 'er," said the man desperately.  "'Is Nibs'll have me head, 'e will.  I can't believe she ran off like that."

"She's in here, come around the back," Carver led the man to the back, through the neatly tended rows of their home garden.

"Livvi!  Ye poor girl, 'ow are ye 'olding up?  Let me see 'ere," the man knelt down and started inspecting the mabari.

Carver suddenly realized what was wrong with the dog, turned bright red, and fled the room.

The stranger chuckled.  "Don't know what 'e 'spects will happen when 'e's older."  He looked curiously at Kit, who was still patiently cradling the mabari's giant head in his lap.  "You boys speak awful nice for peasants."

Kit smiled.  "My mother would beat me senseless if I spoke like that."

"She was born 'igher, I guess?"  He looked around the small but clean little hut.  "Ye live well.  Livvi likes you, lad, and she's gonna be laid up for a time.  Would ye mind caring for 'er for a bit?  Ye'll be well paid.  It might even be a real job for ye, later."  He looked down at the mabari, contentedly resting on the boy.  "Ye seem to have a knack for it."

 

"He's got a what?"  The Templar turned back to the peasant woman.

"One of zose big dogs, a mazari, I do not know what you call zem."  Her nervousness made her foreign accent even more noticeable.

"Oh, Maker.  Are you certain they're mages?  Three of them?  In one house?  That just seems odd."

The woman took a few steps before she realized that the Templar wasn't following her anymore.  "Yes, I am - what is wrong, messere?  It is just zis way," she urged.

"Look, I don't want to be rude, but you never mentioned a mabari.  You said they were unarmed.  You also said that you didn't know anything about the son, but everyone in the village says he turned you down rather rudely at the last festival."

"What?"  The young woman gasped in fury and turned on the Templar.  "What are you saying, that I lie just because I do not like young Hawke?  'ow dare you!"

"You're the one who dragged me out here with some story about three apostates - "

"Three apostates?  I haven't heard that story," laughed a young man, accompanied by the largest mabari that the Templar had ever seen.  "I've heard the one about three Orlesians on a bar."  He held up the skinned rabbit and empty trap he was holding.  "I'd shake hands, but, you know."

"It's all right," sighed the Templar.  "You're Hawke, aren't you?"

"I am," the young man nodded.  "And this is Augustus, my mabari, and that's Cevine, a narrow-minded bitch who doesn't believe a man has any business keeping his pants on in her presence."

"You lying little - "  The woman's outburst was cut short by an angry growl from the mabari.

"Enough, please," said the Templar wearily.  "I can see I've been dragged out here on a nonsensical mission.  It's getting dark, miss, would you like me to escort you back to the center of the village, or are you going to stay here and keep fighting with your ex-lover?"

"She is not - "

"He is not - "

The mabari gave a soft whuff of amusement as the two voices conflicted.

The Templar chuckled, and turned away.  "A mage with a mabari," he muttered under his breath as the two young people started bickering at each other.  "Never heard anything so ridiculous in my life."


	2. The Village

"My thanks, messere," said the elf, holding back a slight laugh as the last attacker ran down the alley, with the mabari in full chase.

Kit helped the elf back to his feet, trying not to think too much about how soft and small the elf's hands were, or how alluring and musical his foreign voice was.  "Are you all right?"  The elf that he had rescued was slender and graceful, with beautiful blue eyes and elaborately curled soft blonde hair, wearing clothes that probably cost more than the entire village of Lothering was worth.

"Hélas, my suit!  Terrible," moaned the elf sadly as he tried to brush away the worst of the mud and gore.  "But, messere," he smiled sweetly at his rescuer, "better my clothes than myself, non?  My thanks again, a thousand thanks!  How can I ever repay you for your bravery?"

Kit choked back the first three things that his brain suggested, then the next few, and finally gave up.  "It was nothing, really."

"Messere," said the elf softly, "you must not understand what they intended, or you would not say that.  Believe me, it was a thing, indeed."  The elf held out his hand in greeting.  "I would know the name of such a brave and handsome youth.  I, myself, am Ioan Savalliere, cortigiano premiere to the court of Lord Davius Marcelle of Joyeaux-Garde," said the elf, and bowed with ineffable grace.

"The honor is mine," smiled Kit, and bowed in return as best he could, knowing full well that he was an overly large human who probably just looked ridiculous rather than well-bred.  "I am Khittamaer Hawke, currently of Lothering."  Kit grinned impishly, and decided to stick with his own personality instead of trying to be something he wasn't.  "Would now be a bad time to admit that I have no idea what a 'cour-tay-shano' is?"

Ioan laughed, a light trill of amusement that made Kit think very naughty thoughts.  "I am - how do you say - a bard, of sorts.  Only, my specialty is not to sing.  I entertain," he glanced up at the tall youth from beneath his long lashes, "in different ways.  It is something hard to explain.  But, perhaps I could demonstrate?  It would be so much easier to show you."

"Uh - sure, if you like," said Kit in confusion.  Trying to think straight when Ioan was looking at him was impossible.  Kit suddenly smiled to himself at his unintended mental pun.

"Please, if you would come with me back to the miserable hole they call a tavern, I can change in my room, and perhaps endeavor to reward you for your noble deed."

Kit blushed.  "No, really, I didn't do it for a reward.  You don't have to - "

"In that case," Ioan smiled, "please, join me in my room and keep me company.  For my pleasure."

"That sounds much better."  Kit bowed to the elf again.  "Let's go somewhere more pleasant."  He offered Ioan his arm.  They walked back to the tavern, Kit nervously silent, and Ioan smiling to himself as he leaned on the young human for support.  Augustus followed silently, keeping an eye out for any aggressors.

Ioan had the largest room in the tavern, and had redecorated the entire room to suit his needs.  From the carpet on the floor to the heavy velvet curtains, the room looked as if it had been lifted directly from Orlais and placed here as the perfect background for the beautiful elf.  Ioan gestured towards the chairs, and Kit sat down carefully on the embroidered cushions while Augustus made himself comfortable by the door.

"A drink, mon brave?  While you wait?"  Ioan held out a bottle of wine, and Kit smiled.  "Try it, it is from Rivain, it is not the filth they serve here."  He poured the rich red wine into a sparkling crystal goblet, and Kit accepted it gratefully.  "Khittamaer?  Kit, of course.  Fereldan men don't have time for long names," Ioan smiled.  He disappeared behind a dressing screen, but kept talking as he changed.  "Hawke, now that is a Fereldan name.  And your tattoos?  They have meaning, yes?"

"Yes, I'm the firstborn son, and the Hawkes fought at the side of Andraste, so we are entitled to the sacred marks."  He took an experimental sip of the wine, and found it to be heady and sweet - much like Ioan.

"Magnifique!"  Ioan walked out from behind the dressing screen, and Kit nearly dropped his glass.  "Your ancestors fought at Andraste's side?  Truly?"  Ioan was wearing a long white dressing gown of some heavy, soft fabric that seemed ready to fall from his slender shoulders at any moment.

"Yes, that's the story, anyway.  It's in one of the official Chantry histories," said Kit nervously.

"Vraiment?  I shall have to search later," said Ioan as he walked to pour himself a glass of wine.  The robe he wore was barely closed in the front, and Kit could see that Ioan was completely nude underneath, his little feet bare as he walked across the rich carpet to sit down at the table with Kit.  "You look startled, mon brave."

"I am," Kit confessed.  "Very."

Ioan laughed.  "Have you ever been with an elf before?  It is not so different from a woman, I assure you."  Kit blushed, and Ioan raised a questioning eyebrow.  "Oh?  But you have been with a woman?  No?"  Ioan smiled.  "Then, mon brave, I can see we shall have quite the lesson."  He held out his hand to Kit.  "Let us begin."

Unable to resist, and frankly, unwilling to resist, Kit followed Ioan to the bed, and let Ioan guide him to lie down on the mattress, and the elf straddled his hips, his hair falling over his shoulders, and the robe that he wore still barely covering his exquisite nudity.

"A handsome young man like you, why are not the women all over you?" asked Ioan as he slowly ran his hands up Kit's chest.

"I - I've had some issues.  I think I know what the problem is now - I don't really like women," he murmured.  He stared at Ioan's beauty, unsure when his hands had settled on Ioan's slender hips.  "I didn't know what I liked before.  I think I've figured it out, though."

Ioan laughed, and bent down to kiss Kit on the lips, his hands slowly undoing the buttons that held his shirt closed without Kit realizing, until the young human jumped in shock at the contact of Ioan's skin on his.  Ioan laughed without breaking the kiss, moving his hips over Kit's, slowly stoking the fire of the young man's passions.  "And what is it that you like, mon brave?  You like this?" he whispered between kisses and caresses.

"Yes," moaned Kit, leaning up so that Ioan could pull away his shirt.

"You want this, yes?  You want me?"

"Maker's breath, yes," Kit whispered against his lips.  "You're beautiful.  I've never seen anyone like you before."  He could feel Ioan smile against his lips.

"Certainment," said Ioan, a little smugly.  "I am nothing like your alienage elves, am I?"  He sat up a little, and the robe smoothly slid away, revealing the lithe muscles of his slight body and the unblemished perfection of his pale skin.  "They are such cowards, so backwards," said Ioan scornfully, with a slight tinge of bitterness.  "They cling to their trees and take pride in their poverty.  What is past, is past.  I want to live now, to touch now," Ioan underscored his words with a rain of kisses on Kit's face, "to kiss, to be alive, now!  Hiding from the real world does no good, and worse, it is no fun.  Elves and humans, we were made for each other," Ioan whispered in his ear.  "Our bodies were built for pleasure.  To refuse that is to go against the will of the Maker."

"Made for each other?" said Kit wonderingly.

Ioan continued kissing Kit's face, but took one of the young man's hands and guided it between his slender legs, drawing Kit's fingers over the soft wetness at the entrance to his body.  He moved slightly, his lips still gently touching Kit's skin, and slowly guided their intertwined fingers in a slow, careful exploration.  "Not so very different from a woman, is it, mon brave?"  Ioan's voice was slightly husky with restrained passion.

"You're wet," said Kit in surprise.  "Human men don't do that."

"No, indeed, and it is very inconvenient, in my opinion."  Ioan laughed softly, slightly breathless.  "We were built for pleasure, and you," Ioan moved, letting Kit's finger enter him at the same time that he rubbed his leg along the young man's stiffening length, "you were built to please."

That was too much for Kit, and he fiercely pulled Ioan to him, then rolled over so that he was on top, his fingers still eagerly exploring, his lips hungrily seeking Ioan's.

Ioan gave a slight gasp of pleasure at Kit's touch, and lifted his hips, moving his legs up to give the young man more access.  "Ah, this you have done before, yes?"  He dug his fingers into Kit's broad shoulders as Kit's fingers brushed over the hard nub of pleasure inside him.  "Yes, yes you have," he moaned, and thrust backwards, seeking more contact.

"This is about as far as I've gotten," whispered Kit nervously.

"You want more, yes," Ioan murmured.  "Ah, there, there, mon brave, more!  Don't stop!"  Ioan arched into his touch, rolling his hips on Kit's hand.

"Yes, please, I want more, I want everything."  Kit kissed him desperately, trying to match the movement of his fingers with Ioan's body until they settled into a swift rhythm, his fingers stroking in and around Ioan's wet channel.

"And you shall," Ioan promised.  He reached down, between Kit's legs, sliding his hand into his trousers.  "Let us see what we have here."  He worked Kit's cock free, using his legs to push Kit's clothes away, and continued to kiss the young man while he ran his hands along the length of Kit's massive cock.  "Mmm, delicious," murmured Ioan approvingly, "heavy and thick, and a good length.  I like this curve," he whispered, "you would do best to be face to face, always, mon brave.  You are built for it."

Kit groaned at the feel of Ioan's soft hands pulling his away as Ioan carefully settled himself beneath him, rearranging their legs and positioning himself so that the tip of Kit's cock was just touching the entrance to Ioan's body, trading passionate kisses the entire time.  Kit could feel the heat of Ioan's body, and the slender little hands gently guided him so just the tip of his cock slid inside.  Kit tried to remember to breathe, not to react as his body wanted him to.  He didn't want to hurt the smaller body beneath him, or worse, come too soon and ruin everything.

Ioan smiled at Kit's hunger.  "Gently, mon brave, but not too gently."  He moved his legs higher, and drew Kit farther into him, past the first tight ring of muscle to the second.

Kit gasped at the hot velvet feel of Ioan's body tightening around him.  "Oh, please," he groaned, and held still, trying not to go insane.  "Maker!"

The elf smiled to himself, reveling in his power, and gently caressed the young human, coaxing him, working him even deeper.  "Yes, that's it, mon brave," moaned Ioan encouragingly, "take me, I am yours."  Ferelden, Orlesian, Antivan; it didn't matter – human men like this loved to hear those words, and the courtesan knew it.  He gave a soft sigh of delight as Kit finally got up enough courage to drive his cock all the way into Ioan's willing softness.

Without any further instruction, Kit drew out then slammed back in again, the massive head sliding over the soft nub inside Ioan in a way that made the elf shudder with pleasure.  "Ah, yes," Ioan gasped.  He could tell this was going to be a good experience for both of them.  The young human had one of those bodies that fit perfectly with a male, especially a smaller, more flexible, elven male.  Kit's cock was so thick and long just having him inside gave a feeling of pleasurable fullness.  But when he moved, it was even better – the massiveness of his cock meant it was impossible for Kit not to stroke that tender spot, and in a few minutes, Ioan was gasping and writhing in pleasure on Kit's cock.  He wrapped his arms around Kit's neck, pulling him closer so that he could get more of the young man's fierce kisses.

Kit grabbed Ioan to him, kissing him madly as he rammed his cock deep into Ioan's body.  He could feel the elf's muscles clutching wildly at him, and Ioan dug his hands into Kit's hair.  Ioan's cock, trapped between their bodies, began to twitch and sent streams of wetness into the hot space between them, and Kit's cock pulsed in response to Ioan's completion, flooding him with thick human seed.

Ioan sagged into Kit's arms, and Kit rolled over so that he was lying on his back, still holding the elf close to him.  "Merveilleux," whispered Ioan, almost dazed by the intensity of his orgasm.

"That sounds like you enjoyed yourself," smiled Kit.  "I hope you did."

For answer, Ioan kissed him again, moving his body so that he was just over Kit's cock again.  At first, Kit thought it was too soon for him to respond, but Ioan's hands skillfully coaxed him back to full hardness, and then Ioan slid back, sitting on top of him so that he could ride Kit's cock.  "You have no other plans for this evening, mon brave?"

"Not anymore," groaned Kit, as Ioan started moving up and down.

Kit woke up hours later, drained but sated, to find Ioan's eyes watching him curiously.

"Kiss me," whispered Ioan, and Kit obeyed eagerly.  Ioan laughed joyously, and lay down again with his head on Kit's shoulder, nestled comfortably in his arms.  "Now, tell me the truth, mon brave - why did you rush to rescue me?"

"I thought you might need help," said Kit quickly.  "Oh, and I thought you were beautiful.  I was hoping to get a closer look."  He pulled Ioan to him for another kiss.  "This was a bit more than I expected."

"Foolish boy," said Ioan, his voice caressing rather than chiding.  "To risk so much for a stranger?  When it is yourself and your family that is in danger?  Are you not supposed to be keeping a low profile, mon brave?"

"What?"  For a moment, Kit felt a touch of fear in his soul, but Ioan washed it away with a trill of his lovely laughter, and another one of his mind-numbing kisses.

"Mon brave, I promised to repay you, did I not?  And so I shall," said Ioan sweetly.  He kissed Kit again, a swift peck on the cheek that did nothing to restore Kit's sense of balance.  "You do not know what Joyeaux-Garde is, do you?  It is where Templars are trained before they can take charge, whether as a commander or a captain, anything.  All Templar leaders in the Chantry, they come to Joyeaux-Garde first.  So when a position opens, say, in Lothering Chantry, for a new commander, the request comes to Ser Marcelle of Joyeaux-Garde."

Kit stared at Ioan, unsure of what to say for a moment.

Ioan kissed him again, and smiled in amusement.  "So Ser Marcelle must look through the prospects, who would be the best candidate, he must decide.  Is there a patron that he would like to please, or someone he would like to punish?  He must know, what kind of place is this, this Lothering?  But if he goes himself, ah, then everyone is on their best behavior, people beg and plead for a place, once they think it is available.  So no, he must send a pair of eyes that he trusts, someone who can see the city at its worst, and tell him truly, what kind of commander deserves this post."

"You're - with the Chantry?" said Kit, trying to understand.

Ioan laughed again.  "No, no, mon brave.  I am with Lord Marcelle, who is sometimes Ser Marcelle.  But who is always an Orlesian noble.  I know, you do not understand," Ioan laughed.  "You would never be like that, any more than your noble mabari would be able to mince about like one of our pampered lapdogs.  No, mon brave, you will never understand.  But you will see what power a bard has, even over the precious Chantry, even from another country."  He kissed Kit again, unable to resist the young man's lips.  "I have developed a marked preference for the men of Ferelden," he sighed.  "But it would be a pity to try and transplant you.  The men of Orlais may bathe more, but they are rotten inside.  You can smell the corruption.  But you, and the men like you here, you could only grow in a place like this, where men must be men to survive.  And yet, because you are so simple and pure, you can still laugh.  I like it."  Ioan reached up, and pulled Kit down to him for another kiss.

"How - how did you know?" whispered Kit, terrified by how close he had come to losing everything, still unsettled by the revelations from Ioan's sensual lips.

"Ah, mon brave, you taste of lyrium.  It makes my lips tingle when we kiss.  I love it."

 

"Good day to you, mistress," said the Templar politely.  "Do you know, they have the strangest rumors in the village?"

"Indeed," smiled Leandra, but didn't pause in supervising the garden workers.  "Don't pull like that, Suellyn, you'll leave broken roots."

"Indeed," said the Templar.  "They say one of the houses at this end of the village harbors an apostate.  I've never heard anything so ridiculous," scoffed the Templar, chuckling hollowly beneath his helm.  "Why, if there was an apostate here, there would be lyrium.  Everyone knows that."

Leandra sighed to herself.  "Of course," she smiled politely.  "But, people in the village will talk.  They get so bored."  She brushed away a stray leaf that had settled on her skirts.  "It is a terribly hot day, would you like to come inside for a drink?" she offered.

Kit disappeared inside the house.  He had been silently listening to the conversation and finishing a book, but he knew what the Templar wanted.

"What, another one?"  Kit's father looked up as his son poured out a small glass of lyrium for their guest.  "It's like someone has been sending every addict in Ferelden to work at the Chantry here."  Kit didn't answer, and his father shook his head.  "Well, I don't feel like playing word games with anyone right now.  If your mother is looking for me, I'll be in the den with Sildrain and Zortal."

"They're here again?" said Kit.

"I think Zortal is serious about trying to marry Bethany," his father sighed.  "But she's still too young for any such thing.  In the meantime," he grinned, "he's always welcome so long as he paves the way with ale."

Now it was Kit's turn to shake his head, looking surprisingly like his father as he did so.  They both had the same pale golden hair and deep blue eyes, with the same humorous twist to their smiles.  "Don't get too drunk, or mother will have your head."

"That's my plan, boy, that's my plan."

"Father!"

With a chuckle, Malcolm Hawke disappeared just as Leandra and the Templar entered.

"Kit, would you be a dear and have Luci bring out some wine?" said Leandra, pretending not to see the glass of sparkling blue liquid on the table.

"Yes, mother," said Kit, and ran to the kitchen as the Templar helped himself to the glass.

 

"Really, Carver?  A Chantry priest?" said Bethany in disgust.

"Oh, she isn't a priest," laughed Carver, and grinned at his sister.  "She's just a lay sister."

"Emphasis on the 'lay' part," smiled Khittamaer.  "She's also dumb as a rock."

"She is not," protested Carver, then sniggered as he remembered some of the things his latest conquest liked to talk about.  "She's not dumb, she just sees things... oddly.  She's a little insane.  But very pretty."

Bethany frowned.  "But really, that seems dangerous, doesn't it, Carver?  I mean, what if she talks too much to the wrong people?"

"Like who?  The templar who wants to get into your pants?  The lyrium addict?  The impotent Mother Superior?"  Kit grinned.  "Besides, if you've ever heard her talk, you'd understand why no one listens to her.  She thinks Carver's eyelashes are pretty."

Bethany looked at her brothers.  "You're making that up."

"She's insane," Carver repeated.  "But a firebrand in the sack."  Carver took another sip from his mug.  "She thinks you're beautiful.  She went on for hours about your hair and your shoes the other day because Kit set her off."

Bethany made a noise of distaste.  "Oh, you boys are just awful."

"I did tell her you were a dwarf-only kind of girl," Kit started, but stopped when Bethany hurled a jug of water at his head.  "Hey!  Those are expensive!"  Kit caught the jug just in time, spilling water all over himself.  "Now look what you've made me do," he protested.


	3. The Refugees

"Your orders, master?"

Kit looked at the group of soldiers, gathering their packs and gear for the march to Ostagar.  "You will watch over him," said Kit slowly.  Pidge nodded, waiting for his real orders.  "If anything goes wrong, get him safely back here."

"Do you think something might go wrong, master?"

Kit tried not to snarl.  "I think young King Cailan is an idiot.  He has no plan for failure, just some grandiose battle that bards will sing of for years.  I will not lose my brother to some lunatic's dream of glory," he said sharply.  "Watch the quartermasters.  Watch the supply lines.  Don't get tangled in them if you have to run.  If only that fool King would wait for the Wardens, I wouldn't be so nervous," Kit snapped.  "Bring him home, or don't come back at all."

The elf grinned.  "You don't think I'm stupid enough to do that, do you, master?  If you did, you wouldn't be sending me with Carver."

Kit grinned wryly.  "I know, I'm just – I'm worried."

"I'll watch over him, master.  He'll have food every night, even if no one else does.  And we'll make it back, even if every other regiment in the fool King's army falls to the darkspawn."

"Thank you, Pidge."  Kit smiled at the elven servant, glad again that Ioan had sent the wandering elf to him.  "Be safe."

Pidge nodded, and went to join the soldiers as they finally started to leave Lothering.  Kit took a deep breath, then waved cheerfully to Carver and the others as they marched past.  The Templars of Lothering were studiously ignoring the Hawke family, and Kit tried not to laugh.  Since his father's death, he'd been in charge of the family businesses, dealing in lyrium and other crafts from Orzammar.  He wasn't as retiring as his father had been, and he had made it clear to the locals that the Hawke family wasn't going to run from the Templars any more.  But he refused to shelter runaways, something that made it easier for the Templars to stomach his presence.  Of course, he didn't turn them in, either.  He was still a mage, after all.

"Brother?  You have guests from Orzammar," said Bethany.  "And why has Luci been packing all day?  Is she going to the front with Pidge?"

Kit shook his head.  "I asked her to pack up our heirlooms and Mother's jewels.  Let's get back to the house."

"Our heirlooms?  What are you planning, Kit?"

"Lothering is the nearest real village from Ostagar.  If something goes wrong – Maker preserve and prevent – this is where the refugees will come.  And if the army suffers a loss at Ostagar, then this is also where the darkspawn will come."

"Maker preserve!" gasped Bethany.  "You don't think – "

"Just in case," said Kit firmly, "I'm sending some things to Orzammar for storage.  We can get that back easily, from anywhere in Ferelden, or even the Free Marches.  Anywhere we are likely to run, Orzammar can reach.  We may lose the house, but we won't be completely penniless."

Bethany stared at her older brother.  "That's why you sent Pidge with Carver, isn't it?"

Kit smiled wryly.  "If anyone can keep Carver safe in a horde of darkspawn, it would be Pidge."

Bethany threw her arms around Kit with a soft exclamation of joy.  "I'm so glad we have you to watch out for us, Kit.  I don't know what we would do without you!"

 

"Turn over those carts," Kit commanded sharply as the last group of people ran past him.  Carver and one of the farm laborers pushed the carts so that they were blocking the road.  "With me, Bethany," Kit and Bethany pointed their staves at the blockade, and it blazed up in flame, forming an impassable barrier.  "Let's go!"

The peasants and merchants of Lothering didn't even blink an eye at their use of magic, they just breathed a prayer of thanks to the Maker that the Hawkes were there, and kept running.  Kit helped up an old woman who had fallen, and sent her after her fleeing family.  The woman's granddaughter had just turned back for her, and pulled her along the road.

"Master –"

"Take your family and run, Pidge."  Kit shook his head, cutting off the elf before he could protest.  "We don't know yet where we are going, but you need to get to Denerim," he said, looking at Luci, who was starting to show signs of her condition.  "You have enough to support your family, and our contacts from the Merchant's Guild will always hire you.  Don't worry about us, we'll be fine.  Now go."  The elf wanted to make more of a protest, but he knew that Kit was right.

"Thank you, master.  Be safe."  The elf took his wife's hand, and led her down the path that he had chosen a few days ago, leaving the Hawkes to continue keeping watch on the main road.

From Lothering, everyone was scattering in various directions, but all the refugees knew that the darkspawn wouldn't be following them on this road, not for a while at least.  Not while the Hawkes were still there.  They had seen young Master Hawke and his sister unleashing the fury of the Maker on the darkspawn, with their brother cutting down the stunned and frozen creatures that survived the first balls of fire.  They had seen young Master Hawke hurling the beasts back, giving the people of the village time to run for their lives.  They had seen him standing alone, holding back wave after wave of terrifying monsters, in front of the empty Chantry that the priests and Templars had abandoned the night before, while the workers from the Hawke household had set up the barricade and young Mistress Bethany had used her magic to heal the wounded so that they could go on.

They had heard the words of the Chant of Light a million times, but they had never seen it before today.  For the rest of their lives, when the survivors heard the familiar words, they would see it again in their memories, and remember that magic had saved them when all seemed lost.


	4. The Mercenaries

"Did you know Bethany ran into a demon once, in her dreams?"

Kit looked sourly at his brother.  "I'm ignoring you, Carver."

"It wasn't interested in her at all.  It just wanted directions to you."

Kit gritted his teeth and tried to ignore his brother.

"How long do you think you would last in the Circle, Kit?  Have you ever wondered?  I always thought Bethany would actually be happier there.  But you?  You're too much like Mother."

Kit stepped over the bodies, and started checking them for loot.

"You'd either break out in the first few days, or end up as First Enchanter."

"Maker's breath, Carver, will you just stop talking?" said Kit finally.  "I was right, they were going to betray us, will you just let it go?"

"If you had been wrong, it would have been murder.  But you wouldn't care, would you?"

"Not particularly, no," snapped Kit.  "A few less thugs in the world don't matter to anyone one way or another."

"They could have had families."

"Families who will probably be better off now that the man of the house doesn't spend all his free time in the Hanged Man drinking away his pay," Kit shot back.  "Carver, you're not going to make me feel guilty for killing off the scum of Kirkwall.  You're not going to make me feel guilty for not handing myself over to the Templars just because of some mistranslated words in an old song."

Carver glared at him for the blasphemous joke, but didn't challenge him on it.  "Do you feel guilty about killing people who worked with you?"

"Not when they planned to use that to stab me in the back."  Kit finally stood to face his brother.  "It would have been one thing if they wanted to cheat us out of our fair share.  But they were going to sell me to the Templars.  Not out of some misguided sense of duty.  They did it for the money.  Money which we'll be keeping, by the way," said Kit as he held up the bag of silver coins.  "So if you want to feel guilty about it, don't let me stop you, but personally, I plan to eat well tonight, then maybe go out and get drunk.  You're welcome to come along."

Carver looked down at the bodies of the dead Templars mixed in with the bodies of their former comrades.  "I hate this life," he whispered under his breath, hoping that Kit wouldn't hear him.

Kit picked up an undamaged sword from the body of one of the Templars.  "Nice blade.  Do you want it?"

"Sell it," said Carver, and headed to the entrance of the warehouse.  "I'll be outside."

Kit looked at the dead bodies, and wondered how long it would take the Knight-Commander here to figure out that he wasn't going to run, that sending Templars after him was the equivalent of a death sentence.  But he wouldn't turn to blood magic – his father had taught him too well for that.  It was a shortcut, and significantly less powerful than truly mastering your magical abilities.  What his father hadn't taught him was how to deal with a bitter, jealous younger brother.  Kit sighed.  He missed Bethany desperately on days like this, days when Carver's anger just went on forever.  But she was gone, and he didn't have anything to help him deal with Carver.  Just the certainty that whatever he was doing right now wasn’t working.

"Are you going to stay in there all day?" Carver hissed.  "The guard will be coming soon."

"Right," said Kit wearily, picking up the greatsword and some more trinkets.  "You're right, let's go.  Do you want your share now?  You can get Gamlen drunk again, and Mother will have someone else to yell at."

"Fine."  Carver took the sword and a handful of coins.  "I'll leave you to your friends."  Carver took the first turning and headed to a Coterie stall to sell off the loot they had collected.

"What?  That's not – "  Kit stopped as he realized it was too late, and Carver was already gone.

 

He frowned in irritation as he realized where his prey was going.  He slunk into the shadows, and carefully followed the man through the back door of the brothel, concealing himself as best he could behind some barrels and crates as he waited for his chance.

He watched the man drunkenly approach a slender, pretty elf who was removing his makeup.  He gritted his teeth as he watched the human grab the elf, bending him backwards over a table.

"Let me go!  You'll be sorry!" cried the elf, more in anger than in terror.

He frowned in confusion.  No one here would interfere.  Why wasn't the elf just submitting?  He would save himself a lot of pain and suffering.  Who was he expecting to step in and save him, here in a brothel?  He shook his head.  He couldn't do it, he needed to catch his prey off-guard.

"Didn't we have a date?"  The voice was amused, and the attacker flew across the room before he could figure out what had happened.  He couldn't see the newcomer's face, just that he was a tall human, fairly muscular, and dressed in light mercenary leathers.

The elf sprang into his rescuer's arms, welcoming him with a passion-filled kiss as the human lifted him so that the elf could settle his legs around his waist.  "I did warn him," said the prostitute, "but he didn't listen."

"They never do," the mercenary agreed.  "He'll have a terrible headache in the morning, and he'll deserve it.  Did he hurt you?"

"Just some bruises," smiled the elf.  "Let's go upstairs, and I'll show you where they are."

"Oh?  Would you like me to kiss them and make them all better?" offered the mercenary in a voice that seemed to vibrate at the core of him.

"Maker have mercy, I love it when you say things like that," smiled the elf in his arms, and he silently agreed.

The mercenary chuckled, and walked out of the room, still carrying the elf.  As soon as he was sure they were gone, he stood and raced over to the unconscious man on the floor, and started searching for the talisman.  It was the work of a few seconds to find it, and he hid it away in his armor.  He glanced down at the man.  Even in repose, the face was brutal and unpleasant.

He reached down, and focused for a moment, slipping his hand into the space between what was and what was not.  From there, he crushed the man's windpipe, leaving no visible mark to explain why he was dead.  He drew his hand out again, and watched the ugly man expire.  He wasn't sure why he had killed him.  Was it because the long, drawn-out chase had irritated him so much?  Was it because the man had brutally struck the helpless prostitute?  Or was it simply because he knew no one would ever talk to him that way, and he was jealous and angry and bitter, and this man was a convenient and valid outlet for his aggression?

He shook himself, trying to clear his thoughts, and slipped out of the brothel unseen.  He needed to find the dwarf, and let him know that he had the payment the dwarf had demanded.  He didn't have time for foolish dreams.


	5. The Adventurers

Kit shook himself, and put his staff away, trying to ignore the curious glances of his companions.

"Uh...  Hawke..."

"It's nothing," Kit insisted lamely, knowing that he sounded strained, even to himself.  "We should move on."

"Usually, you have to pay extra to get screams like that," grinned Isabela.

"Shut up," Kit growled, trying not to blush.

"You're afraid...  of spiders?" asked Fenris in disbelief.

"They're disgusting!" Kit blurted out.  "I'm not scared of them.  Sort of.  I just - I don't want them to touch me.  Or look at me.  Or anything.  Maker, can we just move on?  Please?"

"He doesn't like mice, either," offered Carver, "but they don't grow to giant size, so it's not as bad."

"Carver, I will get you for this."

"Scared of mice?  Hawke?" Isabela stared at Carver.  "You're joking!"

"Maker, the time he and Bethany were standing on the table, screaming their heads off because there was one teensy little mouse that the mabari couldn't catch," Carver could barely speak through convulsions of laughter at the memory.  "There's Augustus, tearing around the kitchen after this mouse, and Bethany and Kit clutching each other and screaming in terror on the table, and Mother running after the dog with a broom - "

"And that useless jackass, Carver, leaning against the door, laughing," said Hawke bitterly.

"I killed it," grinned Carver.  "Eventually."

 

Beast.  Animal.  Dog.  In Tevinter, these were insults.  Words used during beatings.  Words used to degrade their slaves.

Fenris watched quietly as Hawke hugged the warhound, and let it lick the blood from his face.

"You kiss that beast on the lips," noted Aveline.

"And Aveline shows off her Orlesian roots yet again," grinned Kit, and stood up, pausing only to scratch the dog behind the ears.  "Of course I kiss my dog!"

"I just don't see the point.  It's unsanitary, to say the least."

"It's fun," offered Merrill, and leaned over to kiss the mabari's nose.  "There doesn't need to be a point."

"He's a good dog, he deserves a reward for all his hard work."  Kit gently stroked the dog's fur.  "He likes to feel needed, and know that I appreciate what he does for me.  Also," he grinned, "it is fun.  The look on your face alone makes it worth it.  Besides, he's such a cute widdle wubby, aren't you, boy?"

Augustus barked happily and rolled over on his back, and Kit and Merrill both bent over to scratch the dog's exposed belly.

"What a wonderful dog you are," cooed Merrill.  "Yes, you are!"

"Is it true that a mabari can jump high enough to pull a man from a horse?" asked Fenris suddenly.

"Yes," said both Kit and Aveline at the same time.  Kit grinned, and Aveline frowned.

"You've had him do it, haven't you?" snapped Aveline.  "Mabari are vicious and savage when they charge.  You only have one chance to break their charge when they jump, and if you miss, you're going to get knocked off your horse."

"Vicious, savage, and cuddly!"  Kit gave the dog another hug.  "And that's why I love my dog!"

 

Fenris picked up one of the broken shards of glass on the floor, and tilted it so that he could see his reflection.  "A handsome elf."  Hawke had called him handsome.  Hawke had looked at him, and then looked at him again.  Hawke's words played over and over in his mind, and Fenris let the piece of glass fall to the floor.  He sat down in front of the fire, hugged his knees to his chest.

The stolen mansion was a mess.  He had spent all night moving every decent piece of furniture to this room, and had broken up one of the shattered chairs for firewood.  It was barely cold enough for a fire, but he wanted the light and the noise.  Fenris sat and watched the wood burn in silence, trying not to think too many foolish thoughts.

"Hello?  Is anyone home?"

Fenris looked up, unable to believe that Kit was really here.

"Oh, here you are," grinned Kit.  He was holding bags and carrying a sealed jug.  "I was just at the market with Mother, and I thought you might not have had a chance to get any food yet."  He set the bags on the table.  "It's just some fruit and cheese and things, and some milk," he held up the jug.  "Also, I left some firewood in the hall, there was a peasant selling it so cheap I couldn't resist.  It's in the first room on the left when you come in."

Fenris stared at the freshly baked loaves of bread, the perfectly ripened fruit, and the chilled jug.

"Anyway," Kit went on before he could speak, "I have to run, Varric has some story to tell me that I might need to check out.  Hopefully, it will turn out to be a job, I'm sure we could all use some extra coin.  I have to go, my mother's still waiting.  Eat up!"

Fenris barely had time to stammer out his thanks before Kit left.  Fenris waited a moment, then pounced on the food.  He hadn't admitted to himself how hungry he was, but he didn't dare go to the farmer's market, and he didn't have enough coin left for eating at the taverns.  The bread was crisp and warm, the milk cool and sweet.  There was golden butter and soft cheese in the bags as well, and sweet berries still touched with dew.

Food and firewood.  Hawke must have gotten up before dawn to do all this shopping.  Just for some strange elf that he had only met a few days ago?  Fenris sat down slowly, unsure of what to think, unable to ignore the implications behind Kit's actions.


	6. The Estate

Fenris finished another bottle of the rich and sweet Antivan wine, and hurled it across the room.  The noise was pleasing, the chaos comforting.  It was a petulant way to embrace freedom, but it served.  It served.  No one ordered him to be silent.  He could leave the broken glass on the floor for as long as he liked.  He could make pretty patterns on the floor, and no one could tell him to stop.

He crouched on the floor, fascinated by the glitter from the glass, and began arranging them in various shapes.  A flower here, an eye there.  A window.  A hand.  Anything that came to his mind.  He heard the door open, and froze, listening.  He chided himself for his foolishness – enemies didn't use the front door.  He forced himself to stand slowly, and calmly walk to see who was visiting.

"Hello," smiled Kit cheerfully.  "I was on my way home and thought I would stop by and say 'Hello.'"

"You just did," Fenris pointed out.  "Twice."

"Did I?  So I did," he smiled.  "Is company welcome, or are you busy?"

Fenris suddenly realized he was gripping the bannister with both hands, and pulled his hands away, told himself to relax.  "Come up, I'm just drinking."

"Oh," Kit smiled pleasantly.  "I don't know, for some reason I thought you weren't alone and that I had come at a bad time."

Fenris shook his head, but was too embarrassed to explain his strange behavior.  He walked back into the room where he spent most of his time, and picked up another bottle, unsure of what else to do with his hands.  "I thought you were at – I thought you had gone out."  He opened the bottle, then set it down on the table again without drinking, and walked to the window.  His eyes scanned the area the way he always did, checking reflexively for anything unusual.  Behind him, he could hear Kit sit down on one of the chairs and lift the bottle of wine.

"No," said Kit calmly, "I was going to join Isabela, but I decided I wasn't really in the mood for company.  Neither was she, so we parted ways."  Kit took an experimental sip of the wine.  "I thought she was coming here."

Fenris looked at him in surprise.  "Why would you think that?"

Kit shrugged.  "Just something she said.  Do you think this stuff would burn?" asked Kit, holding up the bottle.

"I have no interest in Isabela," insisted Fenris.  "I don't know why you would think I do.  What does it matter, anyway?"  He turned back to look out the window again, murmuring something under his breath that he hoped Kit wouldn't hear.

"I didn't hear that last part."

"I know."

"Fenris – "

"You went to a brothel to roll with those elven whores you like so much.  Why are you here?" demanded Fenris viciously.  He moved, a streak of green and white, and suddenly he was leaning over Kit, his hands on the man's shoulders, pinning him to the chair.  "Were you going to compare my skill to theirs?  What service would you like, serrah?" he snarled bitterly, shocked by how much it hurt him to think of it.

"At the moment, I would like to apologize, and maybe ask you to sit down and listen."  That was all he said, and Fenris felt his anger and pain melt away under the steady gaze of Kit's deep blue eyes.

He pulled away, and flung himself down on the overstuffed loveseat.  He stared at the fire, the bits of glass on the floor.  Anything but Kit, even as he felt Kit's eyes on him.

"I'm sorry," said Kit simply.  "I didn't realize how much it would upset you.  Which was remarkably stupid on my part, to be honest.  If it helps, I didn't even go in.  Isabela and I had a fight before we even walked in the front door."  Kit shrugged again.  "I'm not sure what else I should say."

Fenris still couldn't meet his eyes.  "I know, I have no right to be angry with you," he forced himself to say, as a sort of apology.

"I'll give you the right, if you want.  Just ask," Kit interrupted.

Fenris looked up sharply.  "I'm trying to be serious, Hawke."

"So am I."

Fenris looked away again.  "Stop being foolish – "

"I'm trying to."  Kit stood up and gently turned Fenris' face to him.  "It would be incredibly foolish of me to drive away the one person I truly care about.  So tell me, Fenris, what do I need to say to keep you?"

Fenris smiled nervously, thrown off as always by Kit's unpredictability.  "I think that will work."

"Are you sure?  Because if you want me to tell you you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, and that I fantasize about kissing you from the top of your head all the way down to your pretty little toes, I will."

Fenris stared at him, unable to process what he'd just heard.  "You don't mean that."

"I'd demonstrate, but the armor makes spontaneous sex a bit tricky," Kit grinned.  "How does that armor come off, anyway?  I can't see any laces or buckles."  He tilted his head, looking over Fenris in that way that made Fenris' heart do odd, odd things.

"They're clasps," said Fenris, unaccountably nervous.  He wasn't really going to – not with him.  He couldn't possibly be planning to – not with him.

"Oh, I see, so you just push here," murmured Kit, fitting actions to his words, and Fenris felt the breastplate of his armor being pulled away.  "Well, that was easy."

Fenris stared as Kit leaned over to kiss him, his hands gentle and warm on Fenris, not angry the way his had been earlier.  Kit's kisses were maddeningly soft and Fenris could feel his desire for Kit's touch growing faster and stronger.  Kit removed the gauntlets that Fenris wore and pulled the slender, pale hands to his lips, kissing every finger individually before letting Fenris bury his hands in Kit's hair.

"Well, serrah," said Kit mockingly as he ran his hands over Fenris' legs, "what service would you like?"

Fenris laughed, acutely ashamed of his earlier outburst.  "You're very annoying, Hawke."  He would have moved to kneel in front of Kit, but Kit's hands were still on his legs, holding him in place.

Kit kissed him again, and began undoing the laces that held Fenris' trousers closed.  "Tell me what you like, Fenris.  I'll do anything, so long as it involves my tongue.  Or my fingers.  Preferably both," Kit smirked.

Fenris flushed, felt his breath come faster at Kit's words, words that he didn't dare to believe.  "You're joking."  For answer, Kit began kissing his way down Fenris' torso, pushing the light shirt that he wore under his armor out of the way as he sank lower and lower until he was kneeling in front of Fenris' cock.  Fenris gasped as Kit ran his tongue over the whole length of it.  It was more the look of eager pleasure on Kit's face than the act itself that shocked him.  And then he found he had to close his eyes, because he couldn’t think anymore, his body wanted to feel.

The sensation of Kit's mouth completely enveloping him.  Kit's tongue sliding over him, tasting him.  Kit's hands, stroking him, drawing him closer and closer to the edge.  He felt a butterfly touch over the soft circle behind, like a question to be answered another time.  Fenris heard himself cry out, and dug his hands into Kit's hair.  His hips jerked forward, and he could feel himself sliding against Kit's throat.  Kit seemed to welcome the motion, and redoubled his efforts, sucking harder, swirling his tongue all over Fenris' cock.  As if the first cry had broken some sort of barrier, Fenris went wild, shrieking in pleasure as he drove his cock into Kit's welcoming mouth over and over.  He came with one final cry, and he could feel Kit's throat steadily pulsing around him, swallowing every drop, and then Kit's tongue carefully licking his cock all over as he collapsed into the chair, shaking.

"Someone," Kit kissed his slowly softening cock, "needs more attention than it seems he has been getting.  Or are you always that wild?"  Kit found a drop of come that he had missed and paused to lick it away before looking up.  Fenris was blushing, his thin chest heaving with the aftermath of his passion.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," said Fenris quickly.  "I wasn't expecting you to do – all that."

"What? You didn't hurt me," laughed Kit.  "Anytime you need someone to take care of your needs, I'm available.  Eagerly available, I might add."

"Did you really enjoy doing that?" Fenris asked shyly.

"Yes, and if you like, I can demonstrate how much I enjoy it again."  Kit looked between Fenris' legs.  "Well, in a few minutes, perhaps."

"No," Fenris sat up and pulled away slightly.  "I – not right now," he stammered.

Kit was about to make another suggestive comment, but realized that Fenris was slightly uncomfortable.  He smiled instead, and leaned back on his heels.  "Whenever you like," he offered.  "Whatever you want."

Fenris laughed nervously.  "I might take you up on that."  He pulled his shirt down lower, covering himself from Kit's eyes.  "What about you?  Did you want me to do anything for you?" he asked softly.

Kit smiled.  He leaned over and gave Fenris a gentle kiss.  Fenris could barely taste himself on Kit's lips.  They both tasted like the sweet Antivan wine.  "You already did."  Kit stood up, dusted off his knees.  "Shall I let you get some rest?  You look like you need it."

Fenris nodded, trying not to show how relieved he was.  Kit kissed him one last time, then took his leave and went back to his estate.  Fenris lay down on the bed, hugging himself, trying to understand, but all he could think of was how much he wanted more.  Kit's tongue.  Kit's fingers.  Kit's – everything.  He wanted everything Kit had offered him, and more.  But he couldn't figure out how much he was willing to give up, in order to get it.

 

"Oh, this place is a mess," sniffed a strange woman's voice, and a dog barked in agreement.

Fenris leaned carefully out of a window, and looked down curiously.  The dog sounded familiar.  Hawke's huge mabari warhound looked up and barked in happy greeting at him.  Fenris withdrew and ran downstairs to the front door.

"Hello," said a mature noblewoman, who looked vaguely reminiscent of Hawke.  She had three Fereldan women with her, who were pulling up weeds and cleaning the steps.  Behind her, a dwarven man was holding two bags of groceries.  "I'm going to need more women to clean the kitchen, aren't I?  Cinna, put those down and fetch me two more workers.  No, three."

"Yes, Mistress," said the woman eagerly, and started running back to Lowtown.

"Excuse me," said Fenris, looking at all the women.  "What - why are you doing that?  And have we met?"

The noblewoman held out her hand politely.  "I am Lady Leandra Hawke.  Kit - my boy - said that you had no servants, and he was worried that you weren't eating enough.  So I decided to come and put things into a little order.  Prodevra, you're going to break that glass," Leandra chided suddenly.  "Do pay attention to your work.  Bodahn, bring those things inside so we can take a look at the food storage.  Maker preserve, I do hope it's not filled with vermin.  Sanni, leave that and come with me."  Hawke's mother swept into the mansion and headed to the kitchens without waiting for Fenris to speak, the dwarf and the woman following her.

Fenris stared after her in confusion, and Augustus cheerfully licked his face in greeting.  "Well, now I know where he gets it from," muttered Fenris, and the mabari barked in agreement.  Fenris nervously crept after her, and peered into the kitchen.  Leandra Hawke hadn't actually stopped talking, and was having a running monologue with herself about the state of the kitchen.

"At least this looks like someone made an effort to clean.  'Don't criticize, Mother,' he says.  'Don't interfere.'  And then he runs off to the Wounded Coast, after telling me all about how much he's worried, and expects me not to do anything.  Bodahan, go see if those girls are here yet.  Sanni, put the greens away in the icebox," she said sharply.  "Where is that bread?"

Fenris quickly pulled away, a slight smile on his face, and watched the dwarf scurry out to get the women who were waiting outside.  Fenris had cleaned the parts of the mansion that he needed to use, but no more.  He sat down on a broken crate outside the kitchen, and listened to Hawke's mother directing the cleaning and fixing.

"Do be careful, Cinna, I only brought place settings for four.  That way he can't accuse me of insinuating anything," sniffed Leandra.  "But if you break something, there will only be three and then he will claim I did it on purpose.  And as much as I love listening to my boy, when he starts on his whining, he's a little hard to take."

The mabari rested its huge head on Fenris' thigh, and the two sat in silence and listened to Hawke's mother talk about her son.

"I don't understand humans," whispered Fenris to the dog, and the mabari gave him a sympathetic lick, as if to remind him that understanding them wasn't really necessary.  "No, I suppose it isn't," Fenris agreed.

 

"So," said Isabela cheerfully, "mind if I come over tonight?"  She sidled up to Fenris and slid an arm around his waist.  "That is, if you're not busy."

Fenris twisted away from her.  "Don’t."

Kit shook his head and continued looking over ledgers and manifests for the various businesses he shared with Varric.

"Oh, come on," smiled Isabela.  "It's not like you've suddenly become exclusive, have you?  If you have, maybe you should send out a note and let everybody know that.  I don't think all the players got the memo."

Fenris didn't immediately understand what she was implying.

Kit sighed as he saw Fenris' back stiffen.  "Isabela, don't you have anything better to do than make up stories?"

"Oh?  Am I making things up?" she challenged.  "I've seen you at the Blooming Rose an awful lot lately."

Kit put down his mug and leaned back in his chair.  He wanted to make light of her accusation, but he could see the tenseness in Fenris' shoulders as he waited for an explanation.  "I bought a quarter-share."  He held up one of the ledgers.  "It's business now."

"You what?" said Isabela.  She grabbed the ledger and quickly skimmed over the numbers.  "Why didn't you offer me a discount?  Some friend you are!"

"I was thinking of offering you a job so you could pay off your debts," said Kit, and took the ledger back.  "And don't try to change the numbers.  Varric owns the other quarter."

"What?"  Isabela stood up.  "I'm going to go have a few words with that dwarf!"

"Try to keep your clothes on," said Kit dryly as she walked up the stairs to Varric's room.

Fenris stared at his drink.  "I'm sorry," he said quietly.  "I know.  I shouldn't be jealous."

"So," said Kit, smiling gently, "mind if I come over tonight?  That is, if you're not busy."

Fenris smiled, and played with his mug.  "I would like that.  If you wanted to, of course."

"I want to.  And you can be jealous if you must, but you have no reason to be," said Kit.  "I have no interest in kissing anyone other than you, or doing anything else with anyone who isn't you.  I know you have trouble believing that, but it's true."

Fenris blushed slightly.  "Are you almost done with your work?"

Kit looked down at his papers.  "I can finish tomorrow morning.  It will take Varric that long to get rid of Isabela, anyway."  He swept all the papers into his bag.  "Let's go."

Fenris pushed his mug away and walked out of the tavern, guarding Kit as they stepped into the streets.

"You don't really think they would send Templars here, do you?" grinned Kit.

Fenris shrugged.  "You have a lot of enemies, Hawke."

Kit smiled wryly.  "So they keep telling me.  I never see them, though.  Just piles of bodies that someone hacked in half."

"I didn't – " Fenris looked away.  "You're very annoying, Hawke."

"I get that a lot."  Kit started humming an old Fereldan tune as they walked out of Lowtown.  "I do wish you weren't wearing gauntlets," he sighed.

"Why?"

"We could hold hands," Kit laughed.  "Very immature and silly.  But fun."  He heard a soft clicking noise as Fenris removed one of his gauntlets, and then felt a small, warm hand take hold of his.  Kit smiled, and realized he wasn't going to be able to stop smiling for a while.

"Are we going to your house?"  Fenris was trying his best to sound normal, but the touch of Kit's hand was ruining his ability to think.  He had very large, strong hands.  Most mages didn't do things with their hands.  At least, not in Tevinter.  Or, Fenris supposed, mages in the Circle, who had their Tranquil servants to do the work that slaves did in Tevinter.  Kit did things himself, and had a physical nature that Fenris had never seen in a mage before.  There was an earthy reality to him, unlike most mages who seemed to hunger only for the Fade and treated their waking hours as wasted time.

"Well, unless you want to talk to my mother about what open-minded noblewoman I should be courting, we should go to your house."

Fenris chuckled at the idea of Kit courting a woman, and they turned down the secluded street that led to Fenris' mansion.  "Why don't you just tell her you don't like women?"

"She knows, believe me.  But why would that stop her?"

"Indeed."  Fenris opened the door, checking quickly to make sure that all was safe before he let Kit enter.  "My room is a mess," he said ruefully as they walked to the one habitable room.  There was broken glass all over the floor, and bits of ceramic plates, and scraps of wood, laid out in oddly decorative patterns.  "Sorry.  I was just… playing."

"The bed seems clean," grinned Kit, and carefully stepped around the things on the floor to sit down on the bed.  He looked at the floor.  "It's nice.  Relaxing."

Fenris smiled gratefully, then gave in to his first impulse and sat down in Kit's lap.  Surprised but pleased, Kit put his arms around Fenris, and started removing the armor Fenris wore.  Fenris shifted uncomfortably when Kit's hands brushed over the lyrium markings on his skin.

"Does that hurt?" asked Kit, worried.

"No," said Fenris, unsure how to explain.  "It's just – I'm not used to being touched," he said quietly.  "It feels – odd."

Kit pulled Fenris to him, and kissed him gently.  "I like touching you.  But if you ever need me to stop, just tell me, and I will."

Fenris continued the kiss, running his hands through Kit's pale hair.  "What if I want you to start touching me?" he asked softly, his eyes closed as he continued placing soft kisses on Kit's cheek as he spoke.

"That – that can be arranged as well.  Just tell me what you want."  Kit swallowed quickly, trying to keep some semblance of self-control.  Every time he touched Fenris, he was aware that there was some barrier that kept them apart, something that only time and trust could overcome.  However, it did nothing to stop his almost idolatrous desire for Fenris.

"I don't know the words for it," said Fenris, his voice low and somewhat nervous.

"Ah, well, we can work something out," Kit smiled, and lay down slowly, still holding Fenris in his arms so that Fenris was comfortably resting on top.  "We don't have to use the exact words," he smiled, and slowly moved his hands down Fenris' body.  "So long as our meanings are clear.  Just give me some kind of sign," he said encouragingly.  Fenris' face was hidden against Kit's shoulder, and he could feel Fenris' breath, fast and warm, on his skin.

Kit's hands gently stroked the slender curves of Fenris' body, slid between his legs, and he heard Fenris whisper softly, "I want you to kiss me."  Fenris could feel Kit's cock throb against him as he spoke the words.

"Here?" said Kit hoping against hope that he was interpreting Fenris' soft words correctly.  He gently moved his hand between Fenris' legs, rubbing his fingers over the entrance to Fenris' body.  "You want me to kiss you here?"  He smiled eagerly as he felt Fenris nod against his shoulder.  "Well, we'll have to move a little bit for that."  He gently shifted Fenris to one side so he could slide off the bed, and stood up to begin pulling away the rest of Fenris' clothes.

"Why are you smiling like that?" asked Fenris, curiously, as Kit carefully arranged him so that he was lying on his back, with Kit standing between his legs.

"What?" said Kit innocently.  "How am I smiling?  I'm just smiling.  What's wrong with that?"

"You look like a kitten in front of a bowl of cream."

Kit looked at Fenris, and raised an eyebrow.  "Yes, well," he licked his lips without realizing what he was doing.  "What can I say?  You have that effect on me."  Fenris looked away, nervous and confused by the naked admiration in Kit's eyes.  Kit pulled off his shirt, revealing his lean, tightly muscled chest, and pulled his hair back, tying it in place behind his head.  "I've heard that we Fereldan men are considered strange for our habits," he grinned as he bent over, placing a series of soft kisses on the inside of Fenris' knees, one after the other, slowly working his way down Fenris' legs.  "But in Ferelden, we believe that if the Maker didn't want me to lick it, He wouldn't have placed it in front of my tongue.  Besides," he murmured as he fell to his knees, gently spreading Fenris' legs open for his hands and his tongue, "if Maferath had done his job as a man, Andraste would never have left him."

Fenris was shocked into a slight laugh by his blasphemous comment, and then gasped at the first touch of Kit's tongue on the slick wetness inside him.  As the sensations rippled through his body, he had to wonder if Kit was right.  Fenris moaned softly as Kit slid a finger into him, then continued using his tongue to soften and relax the tight ring of muscle there.  Another finger joined the first, and Kit's tongue slid between his fingers, to begin flickering in and out of Fenris' body.

Fenris moaned, moving his body uncontrollably, trying to get more of whatever it was that Kit was giving him.  He couldn't accurately describe it anymore.  It all melded into a fiery, confused sensation of pleasure, wave after wave that threatened to obliterate him.  He could feel Kit's tongue and fingers moving inside him, touching something inside him that made his entire body feel like he was going to catch fire, or melt, or both.  Kit moved one arm to hold his hips in place, and Fenris realized that he was coming without even having touched himself.  Kit continued moving his fingers inside him while he came, licking and kissing the hot, wet center of Fenris' body, then moved up to lick him clean when his cock subsided.  Fenris moaned at the touch of Kit's lips and tongue on his cock, and thought he was going to come again.  Kit's fingers never stopped moving inside him, and Kit returned to his original position, moving his arm away so that he could continue working his tongue in and out of Fenris.

Fenris tossed his head from side to side, trying to figure out what his body was doing.  His hands were tangled in the sheets, gripping them tightly, and he couldn't stop himself from arching his back into the touch of Kit's hand.  He had the strangest sensation all over his body, as if he were having another orgasm, or more accurately, was still in the throes of the first one.  Fenris tried to sit up a little, to see what Kit was doing to him.  Without warning, he felt Kit's fingers press sharply against something inside him – one second of surprised almost-pain followed by a flood of insane, intense pleasure like nothing he'd ever felt before.

"Shh, it's all right love, relax," he heard Kit saying softly.  His voice sounded very far away, and Fenris blinked in confusion.  Kit was gently stroking his hair, holding Fenris very carefully in his arms.

"What – " Fenris was shocked at how raw his voice sounded.  "What is it?"  He nestled against Kit's bare chest.  His brain seemed to be wrapped in cotton, but Kit was here so he knew he was safe.  His body felt limp, like a damp cloth after someone had wrung all the water from it.  He felt an overall warmth, almost a glow, that didn't come from the fire, but from every part of his body.

"You moved when I wasn't ready," said Kit wryly.  "You're supposed to build up to that, instead of plunging right in."  Kit made a face.  "Okay, that was a bad choice of words."

"Oh."  Fenris didn't feel any inclination to move or question, and just wanted to stay here, perfectly still, in Kit's arms.

"I'll bring you some new sheets tomorrow," Kit promised.

Fenris looked down, and saw that the sheets were torn, almost shredded.  He felt remarkably unconcerned, and couldn't be bothered to wonder what had happened to the sheets.  All he cared about was the fact that Kit was here, with him, and he could rest his head on Kit's broad shoulders.

"Are you all right?"  Kit looked down at him.  "Or are you still out of it?"

"Out of what?  I'm fine, just a little tired."  Fenris stared at Kit, trying to figure out what he was talking about, but he was too tired to think.

Kit nodded slowly.  "Right.  Well, then, I guess we should get some rest."

Fenris snuggled up to him and closed his eyes, idly wondering why Kit was behaving so oddly.  He opened his eyes one more time, trying to figure out what was bothering him about the room.  "Why are we on the floor?"

"The bed is broken."

Fenris lifted his head a little, and looked around the room.  "The bed is gone."

"I put it in the room with the firewood.  I'll move one of the others in here later."

Fenris looked at Kit.  "Was I asleep?"

"You passed out," Kit explained, trying to keep his face neutral.

Fenris stared at him.  "I – passed out?"

Kit nodded.

"What did you do?"

Kit shook his head.  "Just – get some rest, love."

Fenris wondered if he should keep asking questions, but his body wanted to go back to resting on Kit, and Kit seemed to approve of that, so he did.  He lay down on Kit again, with a satisfied sigh, and let himself drift back into sleep.


	7. The Lovers

"Hawke, that mother of yours – she's a menace," grunted Varric as he downed another beer.

"What?  Why are you talking about my mother?"

"I think she's wonderful," gushed Isabela.  "What are you talking about?  She bought me jewelry and a lovely dress, and a hat, and I forget what else."

"What?"  Kit looked at Isabela in confusion.  "Why were you talking to my mother?" he demanded.

"Oh, you were off on some mission with Aveline," said Isabela airily.  "I ran into her in Hightown."

"She came to visit my aunt," growled Varric.  "The two biddies went off on our wasted lives.  She scolded me, Hawke.  Said I was a terrible father."

"You have children?"

"I'm a rich dwarf.  Of course I do.  I give my women housing and money, and they raise them.  Far away from me.  I'll worry about them when they're old enough to talk sense and smart enough to keep quiet."

"I like your mother," said Merrill, "she told me I could come visit the garden anytime.  But I do wish she would stop trying to get me to sleep with Carver and make Hawke babies."

Kit nearly choked on his drink, and Merrill looked at him innocently.

"That Hawke baby thing has got to stop," muttered Aveline.

"She keeps sending me messages asking me if I know any decent Fereldan women who need work," offered Anders.  "And then she actually gets them jobs in Hightown.  She's a good woman.  I assume she's testing them on Carver first."

"Blood of the Maker, did she visit all of my friends?" gasped Kit in horror.  "Wait, she didn't visit you, at least, right?" he said hopefully to the space where Fenris had been sitting.  "Where did he go?"

Isabela considered.  "He probably ran off to save you from dying of embarrassment."

"Maker preserve, what did she do?"

"Not much," Isabela shrugged.  "She went over and cleaned a little."  Isabela smiled wickedly.  "And talked a lot."  She giggled at first, then broke into open laughter at the look on Kit's face.  "You didn't ask why she brought me all those nice things."  Isabela leaned forward to whisper in Kit's ear.  "It's because I came right out and said I'd happily carry a Hawke baby while you frolicked with your lovely little elf."

 

"You hate spiders," Fenris observed.

"Yes, we've been over this already.  I think they are loathsome and disgusting.  What of it?"

"Yet you constantly go into caves seeking treasure, where there are sure to be such creatures lurking."

"Well, but, that's where the stuff is.  I need stuff.  Like treasure, and gold, and rare crafting materials.  Oh, look, another vein of raw lyrium!"  Kit gingerly stepped around the corpses to run up to the newly discovered resources.

Fenris sighed.  "I don't think you really understand how fear is supposed to work, Hawke."

Varric laughed.  "Aren't you scared of anything, elf?"

"I'm scared of where Hawke will decide to go for a honeymoon.  Knowing him, he'd probably choose someplace like Tevinter."

"I would never take you to Tevinter!" Kit exclaimed, then turned bright red as he realized what he had just said.  "I – am just going to go over here."  Kit ran around the corner, trying to ignore Varric and Aveline's laughter.  There was an unsettlingly familiar sound, and Kit screamed and ran back to hide behind Aveline and Fenris.  "You missed one!"

 

"Ah, another fun-filled evening at the Hanged Man," grinned Kit, and ducked as a wayward mug flew past him to shatter against the wall.

"You're paying for that!" shouted the bartender, even as the brawlers continued fighting.  "Why didn't you bring your other friend?"

Kit grinned at the bartender.  "She's patrolling the Docks tonight, sorry."  He was about to go back to his books when the door banged open and an angry merchant stormed in, followed by Fenris and a guardsman.  The guard looked around, and Kit frowned as he realized that Fenris was in trouble.

"There he is," sighed Fenris.  He stared at the floor, and didn't meet Kit's eyes as Kit walked over to the door.

"What's going on?"

"Your friend here," snarled the merchant, "ruined a whole shipment of merchandise."

"It was an accident," Fenris muttered, and the guard rolled his eyes.

"The merchant wanted him arrested, but I suggested that he could be paid for the damage instead and avoid a lot of unpleasantness," said the guard, with a weary shrug.  He obviously recognized Fenris from their visits to Aveline's office.

Kit smiled wryly.  "Let me see the shipping manifest."

"What?" snapped the merchant.

"I'm a businessman, not a philanthropist.  I'll pay for the damage, but I'm not going to let you overcharge me.  Manifests," Kit repeated.

Grumbling a little, the merchant handed over his papers.

"Is this blood?" asked Kit with distaste as he held up the stained bit of paper.

"He slaughtered a group of mercenaries all over my warehouse!"  The merchant glared at Fenris.  "You ought to be locked up, you menace!"

"Oh, hush," said Kit sharply.  "You ought to be thanking him for saving you from trying to sell this crap.  Come here," Kit led them over to his table, and started calculating totals while the bartender brought over drinks.

"Buying something new?" grinned Varric.  He walked down the stairs and looked curiously at the papers.

"Just cleaning something up," muttered Kit.

Varric looked at Fenris, who sighed.  "It was an accident," Fenris repeated.

"I assume you mean, getting caught was an accident," laughed Varric.  He looked down at the manifest again.  "Andraste's gilded bosom!  You smashed all that wine?  What were you thinking?"

The merchant glared at Fenris.  "I'd like to know that myself."

"I was more concerned with making sure none of them got away," snapped Fenris.  "The safety of your crates was of little concern to me."

Without speaking or looking up from his work, Kit reached out and pulled Fenris to sit down in the chair next to him.  Fenris sat down in the chair quietly, and watched while Kit continued writing.  Varric sat down across from Kit and began double-checking the numbers, much to the merchant's irritation.

Fenris sat quietly while Kit and Varric settled his debt with the merchant and dealt with the guard.  He wanted to fidget and move around, but he didn't want to attract any more attention than was necessary.  The merchant left, pleased with his payment, and the guard finished his mug before returning to his patrol.

"Can't believe he thought we were going to pay the street price," muttered Varric.  "Some people."  The dwarf shook his head, and helped himself to another mug of beer and a serving girl before going back to his room.

Kit sat down again with a sigh.  "Well, that was fun."

"Thank you," Fenris muttered, without looking up.  "I'll – "

"Maker help me, Fenris – if you offer to pay me back, I will slap you," said Kit softly before he could finish.

Fenris blushed.  "Sorry.  I didn't mean to get caught.  I was clumsy."  He continued staring at the ground, watching his toes rather than meeting Kit's eyes.

"Are you all right?  You didn't get hurt or anything?" asked Kit, trying not to sound too alarmed.

Fenris shook his head.  "I got stunned at the same time that I killed their mage.  So the guard thought we were all dead, at first."  Fenris sighed again.  "I got up without thinking."

Kit smiled in relief, and reached out, gently brushing his hand over Fenris' knee.  "Well, I'm glad you're not hurt."

"The guard knew who I was, and told that fat blowhard that you would pay for all the damage before I could say anything," said Fenris angrily.

"Well, of course I would," Kit smiled.

"But I – I don't want you to think that I thought that," Fenris tried to explain.  "I don't expect you to pay for all the mistakes I make."

Kit tilted his head, and looked curiously at Fenris.  He thought of all the people he knew who took his wealth for granted and expected him to pick up after all the problems they caused.  He took Fenris' hand in his, and pulled him closer.  "I can't think of a better use for my money than spending it on you, love."

Fenris smiled gratefully at him, meeting his eyes for the first time.  "Thank you."

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" asked Kit with a wicked smile.  "Maybe we should go somewhere quiet and check," he suggested.  "I could check very thoroughly."

Fenris' eyes went very wide, and his hand tightened almost painfully on Kit's.  "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do."  Kit looked at him, trying to figure out what was going on behind the wide green eyes, and looked again over the graceful, slender form of the elven warrior.  "I could explain more, but I really think a demonstration would be faster.  And more convincing."

"That does sound good," smiled Fenris nervously.  "If you want to."

"Let's go," said Kit, and pulled Fenris to his feet as he stood up himself.  "I've done enough work for today."

Knowing his lover's predilections, Fenris had already pulled off his gauntlets, and he slipped his hand into Kit's as soon as they were outside.  "My place is a mess, again.  Just to give you fair warning," Fenris blushed.

Kit laughed.  "Your place is always a mess, love.  Now I'm curious to see what you've done."

"Uh...."  Fenris tried to figure out how best to describe what he had done.  "It's pretty, at any rate," he muttered under his breath.

Kit laughed again, and gave Fenris' hand a quick squeeze.  They walked quickly through the city until they reached Fenris' stolen mansion.

"I have no idea how you're going to get in," he confessed.  "I left through the window."

Kit looked up at the broken window and sighed.  "You know I'm going to send workmen to repair that, right?"

Fenris blushed.  "Sorry.  I bet we could get in through the kitchen."  He led Kit around the side of the house, and broke open the kitchen door.  "You don't have to fix that," he muttered.  "But you're going to anyway, aren't you?"  He took one of the lamps from the kitchen storeroom, and lit it from the fire.

Kit raised an eyebrow as Fenris opened the door to the main hall.  The glitter of broken glass on the floor nearly blinded him.  "What were you doing?"  Kit walked closer, to get a better look.  The stairs, the floor, the handrails – every bare surface was covered with in perfectly symmetrical patterns.  "You know, that would make a lovely mosaic.  I'm almost scared to disturb it."

"I'll clean it up later," said Fenris, and swallowed nervously.  "You can just push it out of the way."  He looked away, trying not to be distracted by the patterns.

Kit looked at him.  "And ruin hours of work?  No, I have a better idea."  He pulled Fenris back outside, and walked around to the back of the house.  "I bet if you stand on my shoulders, you could reach your bedroom window.  Assuming your bedroom is safe, of course."

"It is," said Fenris, inexpressibly grateful that he didn't have to watch his creation be destroyed.

"Good, then.  Up you go!"  Kit easily lifted Fenris to his shoulders, and supported him while he stood up.  "Can you reach?  Nice view from here, by the way.  Highly recommended."

Fenris blushed and looked down.  "Stop being silly.  I can just reach it."

"Damn," grinned Kit.  "I was going to suggest that you take off your clothes."

"What?  How would that help?"

"It wouldn't," Kit confessed as Fenris pulled himself up to the window ledge.  "But it would make me very happy."

Fenris laughed, then pried open his window and crawled inside.  Once inside, he opened the window and lowered a rope made from knotted curtains down to Kit.

"I'm not even going to ask why you had that already," muttered Kit as he climbed up to Fenris' room.  The bedroom was oddly clean, compared to the usual chaos and the wild mess outside.

Fenris busied himself closing the window again, and putting the rope away.

"Are you quite all right, love?" asked Kit.

Fenris stopped, his back still to Kit.  "I just – I thought I saw someone I knew, a few days ago.  But I haven't seen her again, or heard anything, and I – I just don't know.  It – I just got a little nervous, that's all.  I'm fine."  Fenris smiled nervously, and turned to face Kit.  "I'd rather not think about it right now, if you don't mind."

Kit smiled.  "As you wish."  He reached out and pulled Fenris into his arms.  "We do have other things we could think about."

Fenris put his arms around Kit's neck, kissing him hungrily and wildly as he threw his armor to the floor.  "I love your kisses," Fenris whispered, and pressed himself against Kit's body.  "I love it when you touch me."  He could feel Kit's arousal at his words, and laughed to himself.  "You're so – different," said Fenris, wonderingly.

"Different?" grinned Kit.  "What were you expecting, love?"

Fenris looked down, but didn't pull away from Kit's arms.  "I haven't known that many people.  And they were almost all women," he said quietly.

"Ah."  Kit pulled Fenris closer, and slowly drew his hand along the side of Fenris' neck, to make Fenris look at him.  "Do you like this?  I mean, what we're doing now?"

"Yes," Fenris smiled, "I do."

"Good," grinned Kit, and kissed Fenris as he led him back to the bed.  "So, love, would you like to indulge me today?"

"It's nighttime," said Fenris, then shook his head in confusion.  "Never mind.  I mean – what do you want me to do?" he asked, suddenly nervous, but still eager.

"Nothing bad," Kit said, reassuringly.  "Lie down."

"Oh."  Fenris lay down on the bed, and watched curiously as Kit stripped to the waist.  "You're going to do something weird again, aren't you?"

"Ye-es," said Kit slowly.  "Nothing too odd.  My pants stay on, isn't that what you wanted?"

Fenris looked at the wall.  "I'm sorry," he said softly.  "I'm just not ready yet."

"That's fine," Kit grinned, trying not to look too pleased.  "Slow is fine.  There's an awful lot of things I can do, so long as I'm allowed to take off your pants."  Fenris laughed nervously at his words.  "If you ever need me to stop, just say so," said Kit gently.

"It's all right."  Fenris forced himself to turn back and meet Kit's eyes.  "I trust you."

Kit leaned down, and gently kissed Fenris' forehead.  "Thank you.  It's just kissing, anyway."

As Kit continued kissing him, Fenris realized that he was completely serious about 'just kissing' – and that Kit was going to kiss every inch of Fenris' body, from the top of his head all the way down to his toes.  By the time Kit's lips had reached his shoulders, Fenris was holding back soft moans.  Kit was careful not to spend too much time on the tattoos, and the idea that Kit cared enough to remember how much Fenris could stand made him want – was it possible for him to want Kit more?  At this point, Fenris wasn't sure.  His body heated up at Kit's touch, and Fenris eagerly shed his clothes as Kit continued the slow, passionate work of kissing Fenris all over.

Fenris ran his hands through Kit's pale hair, whimpered slightly as Kit moved down, avoiding Fenris' stiff cock.  "Please," Fenris moaned hungrily, and took one of Kit's hands, tried to draw Kit back between his legs.

"You're ruining my playtime," growled Kit, but that didn't stop him from rearranging Fenris so that he was on his hands and knees, legs spread and ready for Kit's tongue.  "Lucky for you, I enjoy this kind of distraction."

Fenris laughed, breathless and pleased, as Kit's tongue slid inside him.  "What is it with you and licking things?"  He gasped as Kit's tongue slid over him, and Kit's hand encircled his cock.

"Do you not like it?" murmured Kit as he began gently stroking Fenris' cock.

"I love it," Fenris moaned, and gave a soft cry as Kit slid a finger into him, then added his tongue again.  Fenris could feel his body heat rising, and wondered idly just how much heat his body could generate.  Kit's fingers slid in and out of him, a soft wet noise accompanied by soft, wild panting from Fenris.  "Oh, Maker, please, Kit, please...."  Fenris cried out, and dug his fingers into the mattress as he came, spilling more wetness for Kit's tongue to eagerly lick away.

Kit ran his tongue all over Fenris' shaft, licking away the sweet liquid, even as he continued sliding his fingers in and out of Fenris with his other hand.  He could feel Fenris quiver beneath his hands, and moved so that he could watch Fenris' body fall into the throes of passion.

"Kit!  Oh, please, please," Fenris cried out, wildly moving his body as Kit's fingers worked over that one incredible spot.  Fenris threw back his head, unable to hold back a wild cry – almost a scream – of passion as his entire body trembled with the strength of his second orgasm.

Kit grinned to himself in satisfaction as Fenris sank to the bed, unconscious.  "I love doing that."  Kit licked his hands clean, then pulled a sheet over Fenris.  He found an open bottle of wine, and took a quick drink while he looked curiously around the room.  This was the first time he had ever seen Fenris' room so neat.  The room was almost too perfect – everything was laid out in a neat little line, an odd contrast to the glittering shards just outside the door.  He wondered if this was how Fenris handled things he didn't want to deal with – drowning his fear and uncertainty beneath the perfect patterns, making order out of destruction.  Kit sighed sadly, and wished that there was something he could do to help.  He looked over at the bed again, and nearly dropped the bottle of wine he was holding.

Fenris laughed.  "What?  It's not like you haven't seen me naked before.  Why is this different?"

"You were covered for this very reason," grumbled Kit, and tore his eyes away from the sight of Fenris, flushed with sweat and sex, gracefully sprawled on the bed, his beautiful green eyes wide and soft.  "I didn't even hear you move."

Fenris laughed again.  "I'm still too hot."

"You don't say," muttered Kit, and finally managed to get himself back under control.

"Hawke?"  Fenris' voice was soft, and strangely serious.  "May I tell you something?"

"Of course."  Confused, Kit looked over at Fenris.  He was staring at the wall, not looking at Kit, not really focusing on anything at all.  "Is something wrong?"

"I – I just don't want you to touch me while I'm talking."

Kit sat down on a chair, and looked at Fenris.  "Are you all right?"

"In Tevinter, slaves aren't permitted sexual gratification.  Is that the right word?  You aren't allowed to pleasure yourself, or have sex, unless it is at your master's command.  I'm not certain if I'm explaining this correctly," said Fenris, frowning slightly.  He didn't dare look at Kit.  He forced himself to stay still, to keep his face a quiet mask while he spoke.  "Danarius found the idea of men enjoying the company of other men to be repellent.  He had no interest in me, beyond using my mouth to get himself hard so that he could have sex with his apprentice."  Fenris reminded himself that he had to breathe.  "His apprentice enjoyed using me for sex.  If I didn't please her, she would have me beaten, and then force me to do it again, while Danarius watched.  For a very long time, I thought that I didn't like sex.  I didn't want to do – anything.  With anyone.  I had sex with women just because they were there, and I was there.  It meant nothing.  I thought – I thought that's what it would be like with you.  But it's not, and I – I can't – "

"Fenris," said Kit gently.  He moved, to kneel at the side of the bed, but didn't reach out for Fenris.  "It's all right."

"I thought I saw her," said Fenris, still staring at the wall, still forcing himself to speak slowly and carefully.  "His apprentice.  I thought I saw her.  I thought – I don't know why, but for some reason, seeing her made me think – you wouldn't want me anymore."

"No, Fenris, that's not at all how it works," smiled Kit gently.  He'd never wanted to touch someone so badly before, but he knew he couldn't.  Not yet.  "It takes more than that to get rid of me."

Fenris closed his eyes, and curled into a ball on the bed.  "I do know why I thought it, Hawke.  I just don't want to say it.  I can't – I'm not ready.  And I don't know how long you want to wait."

"I know you're not ready, love, and that's fine, it really is."  Kit sighed.  "There's more between us then just sex, and you know it."

"Even if I never let you touch me again?" asked Fenris, trying to keep his voice from shaking, but failing miserably.

"Yes, love, even if you never let me touch you again," said Kit, dreading what Fenris would say next.

To his surprise, Fenris laughed, and opened his eyes.  "You're lying, Hawke.  You're a terrible liar."  Fenris brushed away something that might have been a tear with a small half- laugh, half-sob.  "You'd never be able to keep your hands off me."

"I would if I had to," protested Kit insincerely, as Fenris pulled him into the bed.  He cradled Fenris in his arms, holding him protectively.  "Really, I would."

Fenris laughed again, and laid his head against Kit's chest.

"Fenris?"  Kit's voice was serious, for once.  "You can come to me anytime you want to, for anything you want.  But don't think you have to give me anything, or that you have to do anything for me."

Fenris looked up at him.  "You really mean that?"

"I do," Kit smiled.

 

Fenris paced back and forth in his room.  He could hear the door of his stolen mansion close behind Kit and the others.  It was still strange to him, knowing that they respected his desire to be alone.  After a lifetime of being watched, of constant servitude, it was very strange.  He wondered what Kit would do with his new elven servant.  Part of him wanted to think that Kit would sleep with her, abuse her, use her the way any Magister would.  But the rest of him knew better – Kit would be kind, and gentle, and patient, and loving, and she would adore him for it.  She would worship him because he was so different, but at the same time, still a Master that she could serve.

Fenris flung himself into a chair, forcing himself to be still for a moment so that he could think.  He'd never seen Kit so angry before.  When they had beaten Hadriana, for a moment, Fenris had feared that Kit would insist on letting her go.  After all, Hadriana was still a mage, just as he was.  Instead, Kit had treated her with scorn, and left her fate for Fenris to decide, as if she wasn't even worthy of his notice.  Fenris remembered the look of anger in Hadriana's eyes as Kit had turned his back on her.  Fenris smiled at the memory.  He'd never seen Kit so – imperious.  There really wasn't a better word for it.  Fenris dropped his head into his hands.  If Kit had been his Master – if he had been Kit's slave – he would never have run away, Fenris knew that now.  If Kit had been his Master, he would have joyfully given up anything that Kit asked for – obediently slain anyone that he had been commanded to slay.  He would have served Kit loyally until his dying breath.

But Kit didn't want a slave.  He wanted a lover.  He wanted an equal, something Fenris wasn't sure was actually possible.  "Only the Maker is good enough," he muttered, and wrapped his arms around himself.  Kit wanted him.  He wanted Kit, unworthy as he was of Kit's attentions.  Before he could stop himself, Fenris was on his feet, running down the stairs and out of the mansion.  If Kit was home – if Kit really wanted him – Fenris tried not to think about what might happen, and concentrated on walking swiftly to the Hawke estate.

The lights were still on, but the house was quiet.  Fenris knocked nervously on the door, and Bodahn let him in.  Fenris stood in the foyer, looking around nervously.

"Fenris?"

"I have been thinking of you – in fact, I have been thinking of little else."

Kit wondered what he should do.  He knew what he wanted to do, but he wasn't sure if Fenris was really ready.  Before he could speak, Fenris looked up at him, his green eyes wide and hungry.

"Command me to go, and I shall," said Fenris quietly.

Kit was unable to resist the look in his eyes, and all of his caution went out the window.  "Did I say anything?" he smiled.

Fenris pounced on him, covered Kit's face with desperate and greedy kisses, pressed his warm body against Kit's, moving himself against the hardness there.

"Fenris – " Kit whispered, not sure if he was trying to warn him or encourage him.  He pulled him closer, ran his hands through Fenris' soft hair.  "Fenris – " he tried again, but Fenris kept touching him, his slender hands hotter than fire on Kit's skin.  Kit tried to pull away, but Fenris was still stronger than he was, and had to push Fenris to the wall, a little harder than he had meant to, before Fenris would let go.

"I want you," said Fenris softly, before Kit could speak.  "I want you, Kit."

"Fenris – " Kit couldn't quite believe what he had heard, and found himself kissing Fenris again, seeking confirmation of the words with his lips rather than his ears.  He could feel Fenris' body moving against him, the heat of desire radiating from the slender elven body in his arms.  Kit wasn't sure if he should pull away from Fenris' wildly passionate kisses and he didn't want to, but he forced himself to try one more time.  "Love, I thought – "  Fenris' hands had slipped beneath his jacket, and he could feel the elf's warm hands on his skin, draining away what little self-control he still possessed.  "You wanted to take it slowly, didn't you?"

"I did," whispered Fenris, barely pausing in his wild kisses.  "But that was a long time ago, Kit.  I don't want to wait anymore."

Kit gave in, and decided to leave any consequences for his conscience to deal with later.  He pulled Fenris to him, and lifted him in his arms.  Fenris laughed with joy as he wrapped his legs around Kit's waist, making Kit smile at him in surprise.  "You don't laugh enough, love.  You need to do that more often."

Fenris took Kit's head in his hands and kissed him again.  He knew he couldn't explain why he was so pleased, but he could show Kit how he felt.  Kit's skin was so cool beneath his hands, and he wanted desperately to touch him all over, and to be touched.  He wanted to feel Kit's hands on his skin, to hear Kit's cries of passion.  He kissed Kit again and again, moving his body against Kit, grinding himself against Kit's growing arousal.  With a soft growl, Kit fell to the bed with Fenris beneath him, returning the kisses and fiery caresses with equal passion.  Fenris laughed again.  "I didn't realize we were already upstairs."

"I think you were a little distracted," said Kit dryly as Fenris' hands continued exploring and touching.  "I know I am."  He threw his shirt to one side and kissed Fenris again, the way he had wanted to kiss him from the very first day, pressing his body against the slight, slender frame, caressing the warmth of Fenris with his hands, drinking in the sweetness of Fenris with his lips.  "I do want you, love.  You have no idea how much I want you," said Kit softly, and he could feel Fenris' heart beating faster at his words.  He moved a little, so that he could see Fenris' eyes.  "And I'm not sure if I've ever really said it, but – I love you, Fenris."

Fenris met his eyes, shy and uncertain for a moment, unable to believe.  Then he smiled, and pulled Kit's face back to him for another kiss.  Joyful, passionate, wanting.  Fenris was already half-naked, having shed his armor somewhere on the way up the stairs, and now he worked off his leggings as well, then wrapped his legs around Kit's waist again, kissing Kit the entire time.  It wasn't until he felt Kit's hardness pressing against his body that he realized what he had done – that Kit's thick cock was right where it needed to be, and only a layer of clothing separated them.

"Are you all right, love?"

Fenris smiled.  "I want you," he whispered nervously, "I want you inside me.  And on top of me.  I want you."  He could feel Kit's cock throb against him, and knew there was no point in asking if Kit really wanted him.  He could practically smell Kit's arousal, and taste it in his kisses.  Just to be sure, he kissed Kit again, and then again, holding him close.  Shaking slightly, he pulled at the belt of Kit's trousers, undoing the laces so that they fell away, releasing Kit's long, thick cock.  Fenris nervously moved his hand over it.  Kit was large, much larger than – any human – he didn't let himself even think the name.  Not here.  Not now.  He stroked it carefully, wonderingly.  Elves were not built this way.  He'd never seen or felt anything like this.  Fenris wondered what it would feel like to have it in his mouth, what it would taste like.  But more, he wanted to know what it would feel like to have it inside him.  He ran his hand down the length of it again, and pulled Kit closer for another kiss.

Kit groaned, and slid a hand between Fenris' legs, moving his hand over the soft elven wetness there.  "You really want this," he murmured between kisses.  Fenris nodded eagerly, gasping softly as Kit slowly slid a finger inside him.  "Relax a little, love, I don't want to hurt you."  He kissed Fenris again, moved his lips down to the soft skin of Fenris' neck, careful not to touch the tattoos for too long.  "I'm not going anywhere.  We have plenty of time," he whispered as he gently moved his fingers in and around Fenris.

The words, the touch – Kit's mere presence soothed him, quieted that tiny fear in the back of his mind.  Fenris sank into the bed beneath Kit's hands, moaning softly.  Kit kissed him again, fiercely this time, as if demanding his attention.

"Stay with me, love, I want you.  All of you."

"Yes," Fenris whimpered.  He choked back the rest of his words, and moaned again as Kit's fingers brushed over that spot inside him, then slid away.

"I don't want you to come yet," chuckled Kit as Fenris moaned in protest.  He leaned over Fenris again, whispering softly against his skin, "I want you to come while I'm inside you.  I want to feel it."  As he spoke, he moved himself closer to Fenris, raising the elf's legs a little higher.

Fenris gasped again at the first touch of Kit's throbbing cock.  His green eyes went wide in amazement, and he dug his fingers into the muscles of Kit's arms as he felt Kit begin to enter him. "Oh!  Kit!  Yes," Fenris cried out, "yes!"  Fenris bit his lower lip as Kit continued pushing into him, quivering like a leaf at the amazing sensation, the weight of Kit's body, the thickness of his cock, the hot, sweaty flesh pressed against him.

"Am I hurting you?"

Fenris shook his head, and choked back a scream as Kit began moving back and forth.  "Oh, Maker," he sobbed.  "Kit…."  He could barely think, his entire body craved this, and he wanted more.  More of Kit.  He pulled Kit closer, pleading with his lips and tongue, because he couldn't remember the words.  He could feel Kit's pleased and triumphant laughter, and then Kit gave him what he wanted.  Slamming his entire length into Fenris' body.  Rocking his hips so that his massive cock stroked over that little nub inside Fenris again and again.  Drawing himself out all the way, before ramming back inside Fenris, making Fenris go wild.

Kit reached between their bodies and stroked Fenris' cock in time with his thrusts.  It wasn't long before Fenris started to come, inside and outside, spilling his sweet elven come all over Kit's hand even as his body clutched wildly at Kit's cock.  Kit reached down to kiss him, and his body couldn't resist anymore.  His cock pulsed heavily, filling Fenris' tight, hot channel.  Kit could feel some of the wetness spill out from between them.  He kissed Fenris again, hungry for the touch of his lush lips before they both gave in to post-coital drowsiness.

"Oh, Kit… Kit, I…."  Fenris felt himself fade away, and wasn’t sure if he had finished the sentence.  He knew that it was important that he say the words.  He knew that Kit wanted to hear them, and he meant it.  He promised himself that he would say it as soon as he awoke.  He snuggled as close to Kit as he could, and let himself drift off to sleep.

For a moment, Fenris thought he was dreaming.  He was standing on blood-soaked sand, wounded but victorious.  There were cheers, a blur of faces, and he looked up at the only one that mattered, and again felt the painful heart-wound – again saw the cold look in those imperious eyes, again wished that he had died in the arena.  Danarius hadn't wanted him to win, he knew that now.  But the magister was too proud to accept anything less than the best, and Fenris was the best.  He had proven that time and again, but nothing he ever did could please his master.

Fenris saw again the joy on his mother's weary face as she accepted the heavy purse of gold in exchange for his victory, saw again the confusion in his sister's eyes as he walked away with his new master, who didn't even want him.  He finally realized he wasn't dreaming – he was remembering.  Remembering the feel of Danarius' hands gently stroking his face, cool and soft.  Remembering the sound of harsh laughter that cut like knives, the curt command to remove himself from the magister's presence.  Remembering the look in his mother's eyes when she realized she had nothing left to sell except her son.  Remembering the first time he had killed someone.  The first time he had kissed someone.  The first time he had seen Danarius.  Remembering his home, the tiny hovel they shared with another family.  Dinners scraped together from the day's work.  His father's grave.  The staff on his father's grave.  That woke him from his reverie, and just as quickly as they had appeared, the memories started to fade away.

Fenris slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Kit, and walked aimlessly around the room, trying to force his mind to hold the fleeting images, even as he realized that he didn't want to remember.  "Lies," he whispered to himself.  "It's all lies." He sank to his knees, staring out through the small part of the window that the curtains didn't cover.  He watched stars slowly wink in and out, then suddenly realized that he didn't know why he was upset.  It was gone.  It was all gone – he couldn't remember what he had seen, he could barely remember that he had remembered anything at all.  Fenris held his hands to his head, trying to figure out how to deal with the frailty of his mind, its betrayal of his desires.  "What am I doing?" Fenris shot to his feet.  He didn't belong here, this was madness.  He ran to the washroom, barely conscious of what he was doing; only knowing that he had to be quiet and not wake the sleeping man that lay in the bed.  Somehow, he found himself dressed again, and walked to the door.

Fenris paused at the door, restless and agitated, walked to the fireplace, then back to the door, then back to the fireplace again.  He glanced at Kit, sleeping soundly and contentedly, then stared at the fire.  He knew he should leave.  He knew he shouldn't be here.

"Was it that bad?" said Kit gently, smiling to hide the pain of waking up alone and seeing Fenris ready to leave without a word.

Fenris turned in surprise.  "I thought you were still asleep," he murmured.  "I'm sorry.  It's not – it was fine," he stammered, and dropped his eyes to stare at the floor.  "No," Fenris shook his head, "no, that is – insufficient.  It was better than anything I could have dreamed," he said softly.

Kit pushed himself up on his elbows.  Fenris wouldn't meet his eyes, and Kit couldn't figure out what was wrong.  "Was it too strange, being with another man?" he asked gently.

Fenris smiled for a moment, at the concern in Kit's voice.  He was so rarely serious, and Fenris found it amazing and alluring that Kit was so worried about him.  "No, it's not that," he said slowly, trying to explain.  "I – I began to remember my life before.  Flashes.  Faces."  As he spoke, he saw brief glimpses of them again.  An older woman, her eyes swollen with crying.  A younger woman, hiding behind him for protection.  A grave.  His mind shied away from the images, and Fenris turned away again, holding his hands to his head.  "It's too much," he said fiercely, trying not to whimper in his distress.  "This is – it's too fast, I – I cannot do this."

Kit watched him, carefully, trying to understand.  "Your life before?  What do you mean?"

"I've never remembered anything from before the ritual," said Fenris, his voice low and pained.  "And for just a moment, I – I could recall all of it.  Everything.  Then – it just slipped away," he said, desperately trying to hold back a rush of terror, the nameless wild fear that this, too, this precious painful moment would disappear just like everything else.

"It's all right, Fenris," said Kit, soothingly.  He sat up, but Fenris moved away in response.  Kit forced himself to stay still.  "You know, if it brings your memory back, maybe we should do it more often," he suggested, hoping that Fenris would see the humor in the situation, and that his panic would fade long enough for them to sit down and talk.

Fenris glared at him, glad to have another emotion to feel besides the mind-numbing fear.  "Perhaps you don't realize how upsetting this is!  I've never remembered anything, and to have it all come back, only to lose it – I can't – I can't!"  Fenris backed away, sensing that he was nearing the end of his self-control.  He had no right to be angry with Kit, who had done so much for him, he told himself.  He was the one who had forced himself on the man, when he didn't belong here, or anywhere.  Fenris took another step away.

Kit held out his hand, trying to convince Fenris not to leave.  "Fenris," he said gently, "it will be all right."  Kit couldn't help wondering if he had just made a horrible mistake – or two – but no, he couldn't bring himself to believe that making love with Fenris had been a mistake.  It had been too wonderful to be wrong.  "We can work through this," he urged.

"I'm sorry," Fenris moved closer to the door.  He could feel the pressure building inside his head, and his eyes were starting to burn with unshed tears.  "I feel like such a fool.  All I wanted was to be happy – just for a little while."  Fenris knew that he couldn't stay here any longer.  He didn't belong here.  This wasn't his life, it was all a lie, a mad, insane lie.  "Forgive me."  He prayed that Kit couldn't see the tears running down his face as he fled the room.

"Oh Maker, no," gasped Kit.  He jumped out of bed, but Fenris was too fast for him.  "Fenris!"  He ran down the stairs, but the front door slammed shut long before he caught up to Fenris.  "What have I done?" muttered Kit to himself, and ran back to find his clothes so that he could follow Fenris.  He looked wildly around the room.  "What?  Fenris!"  Kit snarled in irritation as he picked up his robes, or rather, the two halves of what had been his robes.  "Why would you do that?"  He hurled the ruined robes aside, and looked for something else to wear, but someone had ripped everything that had been lying close at hand, and it wasn't until he opened the wardrobe that he found clothing that Fenris hadn't destroyed.

Kit knew that Fenris would be long gone by now, and decided to go right to the bar to try and find Fenris.  He ran out of the house without even waiting for Augustus to join him, and headed to check Fenris' mansion.  The building was dark and quiet, and Kit sadly turned away, nearly tripping over the mabari.  "Sorry," he reached down and gratefully touched the huge dog.  "I'm glad you're here.  We have to find him."  With the mabari at his side, no one bothered him as he made his way through the city.  Kit walked into the Hanged Man and took a quick look around.  Isabela finished her drink, studiously ignoring him.  "Have you seen Fenris?"

Isabela looked scornfully at him.  "Why, did you miss a spot when you were ripping his heart out?"

Kit closed his eyes, and counted to ten in Orlesian before speaking.  "Not now, Isabela.  Just tell me where he's gone."

"Go to hell, Hawke."  Isabela set down her mug and turned to face him.  "He was crying, you bastard.  Bawling like a child.  What did you do?"

"I didn't do – it's none of your bloody business, Isabela.  Stop trying to interfere with my relationship.  I will not have it," snarled Kit.  "If you won't answer me, I don't have any reason to talk to you."  Kit turned to leave, but Isabela moved between him and the door.

"You filthy abuser!  Why can't you just be satisfied with all your bloody whores?  Why can't you just leave him alone?"

Kit gasped in shock.  "I am not – "

"Don't you lie to me, you filth!  I have eyes!" Isabela shouted.  "You aren't worthy to kiss his feet, let alone lay your hands on him!"

There was a sort of darkness that clouded Kit's judgment for a moment, a wicked little voice that insisted that there really wasn't any other possible response, and before he knew it, his hands were moving, summoning his favorite element and filling the entire tavern with it.  He regained control of himself just in time, shifting the center of the blast just far enough so that Isabela wouldn't be roasted alive.  The tavern itself wasn't so lucky, and the patrons ran screaming from the devastation as the ceiling started to fall in on itself as flames licked their way up the support beams.

Kit shook himself, and then laughed a little.  "Yes, that's a wonderful way to prove I'm not a violent person who would never hurt anyone I loved."  He sighed.  "Varric?"

"Are you going to set me on fire?" called the dwarf from the safety of the stairs.

"No, just… bill me for the damage."

"I was going to do that anyway."

Kit chuckled, and stepped over Isabela to get out of the tavern.  "If you see him… tell him I was looking for him."  Kit pulled his hood up over his head, and walked away.


End file.
